


Save me, save us?

by pupsarecuter



Category: White Collar
Genre: Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Neal Caffrey, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Slave Mozzie, Slave neal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 01:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10776987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pupsarecuter/pseuds/pupsarecuter
Summary: Human trafficking AU. Neal and Mozzie are slaves illegally owned by the terrible "Master" Kramer. What happens when he decides to sell them in an upcoming auction, will they be separated? Agent Peter Burke is undercover on a case involving human trafficking, what will happen when paths cross?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m starting another story because apparently I don’t have anything better to do with my time. I’ve really been enjoying writing, lately. So, anyways… Please, sit back, relax, enjoy… and review!!!

Neal tried to concentrate on the tiles on the floor. He counted them, again and again. He recited the songs and poems he knew in his head, he pulled at his hair, and he picked at his fingernails. Nothing he did could seem to distract him from the noise just above him, though. 

Master Kramer had just been in an awful mood when he came home. He was having an awful week, actually. Since Monday, every day he had come home in a much worse mood than usual. Usually these sort of moods were once or twice every week, but it hadn’t been this bad in a while. Neal had to believe it was something going on at work. It was the only way the timing made sense. It didn’t seem like he had much of a love life recently, either. He rarely went out on weekends anymore, and almost never on weeknights. No, he knew for sure that Kramer didn’t have a girlfriend. If he had a girlfriend, that would keep him from dragging Neal into bed with him every other night.

_“No! Stop! I don’t want this!”_

Neal shuddered. He tried to forget about those nights. It was hard not to remember, though. Kramer made it difficult to forget…

Neal almost jumped when the basement door was opened, and then precisely slammed shut right afterwards. He could hear Mozzie trudging down the stairs, his breathing labored. 

Jumping up to go help his friend, Neal was just able to catch him as he took the last step, finally falling forward. He was able to half-carry and half-drag Mozzie over to the old couch on the opposite end of the small basement. He used the edge of his sleeve to wipe some of the blood from Mozzie’s mouth. The clothes they were were Kramer’s old clothes that he didn’t care for anymore. Therefore, they were too big on Neal, and nearly swallowed Mozzie. 

Mozzie kept on mumbling something, and Neal was trying to get his breathing back to normal before he spoke. Neal was certain if he couldn’t get Mozzie to slow down, he was going to hyperventilate. 

“You gotta breathe, Mozz. Breathe. Breathe first, then you can talk to me.” Neal reached over to the arm of the couch to retrieve Mozzie’s glasses, placing them on his friend with utmost care. One side of them was already taped from the last time Kramer had broken them. Neal and Mozzie had quickly figured out Kramer’s pattern—he was terribly predictable. He would switch back and forth between Neal and Mozzie when he was upset. When it was sex he wanted, though, it was Neal. It was _always_ Neal. 

As such, when it was a night they knew Mozzie would be taken upstairs to face Kramer’s ever-furious wrath, he’d started taking his glasses off in order to keep them intact. 

When Mozzie was finally able to regulate his breathing, he met Neal’s eyes. “He’s taking us to auction. The black market. He said he’s done, and that he wants his money back.”

“Mozz, he always says rash stuff when he’s like this. He probably didn’t mean any of it.”

“Tomorrow.” Mozzie hadn’t seemed to of heard him. “Tomorrow, Neal. His computer was on the kitchen table. I saw. He had a messenger up--he was asking somebody about it. And he kept yelling about it while he…” Mozzie was holding his left arm to his chest, and Neal could only hope that nothing was broken. 

Neal felt his heart rate going up. What if Mozzie was right? If they were auctioned off, what were the chances they’d remain together? They’d only been here about a year, and before that they’d lived with a younger couple for almost five years. Well—Mozzie had lived with them before they bought Neal, and therefore Mozzie *had lived with them almost six years. 

It could be a good thing. They could go to someone kinder, someone less… angry. But then again, _anyone_ involved in human trafficking wasn’t exactly someone you wanted to be around. On the other hand, they could go to someone worse. As much as Neal hated the thought, it was always a possibility. Kramer was awful, yes, but Neal had heard of worse. Mozzie told him some details of truly awful, awful human beings. Things Mozzie had lived through. Neal never pushed him, and, in turn, Mozzie payed him the same respect. Even the details of what Kramer did were, at times, spared from one another. 

Logically, Neal imagined they both knew what the other had gone through, as Kramer had taken it out on each of them time and time again. The sex, though—no, the _rape_ —Neal never spoke of. He knew Mozzie knew, but he never asked. Neal appreciated that.

“What did he do?” Neal crawled up onto the couch next to Mozzie, pressing up close to his friend. Being in that sort of situation with someone else… it brought you close. Neal trusted Mozzie—he’d never trusted anyone this way. Not even in his life before… before all of this happened. Before he was sold into the human trafficking world. What if they were separated tomorrow? Neal wasn’t sure how he’d cope without Mozzie. Or, for that matter, how Mozzie would be without him. 

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Except the way he twisted my arm, _that_ was definitely… something else.” Mozzie sighed, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. 

“Mozz?”

Mozzie tilted his head towards his friend, re-focusing his eyes. 

“If we end up being separated tomorrow…”

“Then you do what I taught you. You keep your head down, and you do what they say. You do whatever you can to keep from getting yourself hurt.” Mozzie had lifted his head again, and the look in his eyes was serious. 

“I will, I will. I just.. I dunno, I’ll miss you, is all.” 

“Yea, well.. let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that, _mon amie_. Because I would miss you, too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I had a question about how old they are in this story. I'm going to say season 1 or 2 aged, so as they were canonically :) sorry it's taken me so long to update! I had this chapter ready and then my computer broke... so anyways, here you go!

They were woken earlier than usual the next morning; Neal's internal clock told him it couldn't even be seven yet. He cowered as he was hauled up by the collar of his shirt, doing his best not to whimper. Mozzie followed right behind; Neal was glad for that. They couldn't risk his arm getting re-injured before it had a chance to heal itself.

When they got outside, Neal had to squint in order to see. He hadn't been outside since... well, since he'd been brought here. Master Kramer opened up the trunk of the SUV, gesturing for Mozzie to get in.

Mozzie did just that, clutching his arm to his chest as he crawled into the car, careful not to hurt himself. Apparently, however, Mozzie wasn't fast enough, because he got a good shove going in, causing him to fall forward onto his arm. At the pitiful noise he made, Neal immediately started struggling to get away. He needed to check on Mozz. _Mozzie, Mozzie, Mozzie._

When Master wouldn't let go, Neal finally turned and bit down as hard as he could on the first thing he felt; which happened to be Kramer's hand. It got the desired action, though, and Neal was free to crawl into the back of the car to help Mozzie sit up. "Mozz?" He whispered. "Look at me. Can you move your arm?"

No sooner had he asked the question than he was grabbed by the collar of his oversized shirt again, dragged from the car and towards the front door of the house. _No!_ He was supposed to go with Mozzie, not back in here!

Kramer released his grip as soon as they were inside, letting Neal go in order to start digging through the closest drawer.

 _Oh._ He wasn't being left here. Master just brought him in here to discipline him for what he'd done. And the quicker that was over, the quicker they'd leave this place. Hopefully forever.

When Master approached him again, he couldn't help but cower, eyeing the extension cord he had in his hand. Must've been the most handy thing he could find.

"You don't ever, ever pull any shit like that again, do you hear me?!"

One of Master's hands came to grab him by the bicep as the other brought the cord down over his back and shoulders. Maybe master won't be so harsh. Maybe, maybe. The cord came down again, and again. He could hear himself whimpering, he could hear master's angry remarks.

_I really am bad, aren't I?_

When the beating stopped, he slowly opened his eyes, doing his best to push himself up. When had he ended up on the floor? Suddenly he was yanked back up by the arm, and another lash fell down across his legs this time. He was unable to stop his surprised yelp, turning to look at Master with wide, terrified eyes.

"Don't you ever pull shit like that again. Get in the car, _now._ And I better not hear either of you all the way there. Not a sound."

After being marched back out the front door, Neal quickly crawled into the rear of the SUV with his friend, huddling close to him. When the trunk door was closed, Mozzie started to look Neal over worriedly. "Neal, what did he do-"

"Don't talk." Neal whispered, his voice quivering. "I'm okay, just please don't talk. Please."

They both fell silent as Master Kramer climbed into the car, turning the engine over.

Neal stayed close to Mozzie the whole ride, doing his best not to let either of them fall when Master turned a corner too quickly. He could only guess how long it had been when the car finally stopped; maybe an hour? Two? Peeking out the window, he noticed it'd gotten darker. They were in a parking garage.

Master turned off the car and climbed out, but didn't come back immediately to open up the trunk. They waited ten minutes.. fifteen. It was _hot._

"Do you think he'll come back for us?" Mozzie asked, wiping some sweat from Neal's forehead; his hair was soaked.

"I think so." Neal panted. "He has to, right? If we die in here, he can't sell us.." Just then, the back door was opened, and there was Master. Another man was with him, too.

"This is them. They're usually pretty well behaved, but they're having an off day, today."

"You just.. you left them in here? How long have they been sitting in this car?" The other man asked. He looked _gentle._ He must've been middle-aged, and his hair was lighter than Neal's. His eyes looked kind. Worried, but kind.

"Of course I left them in the car. They're fine. They're not like children, you realize that, don't you? They're slaves. Their comfort is not a priority."

"Yea, of course. I just.. I would've thought you'd like to make sure you kept them in good shape, especially considering you're selling them today. They don't look well cared for, at all. I doubt you'll get much for them."

"I don't believe I've even ever seen you at one of these auctions, Peter." Master remarked. "How do I even know you're not gonna go rat everyone out to the Feds?"

Peter just shook his head, turning his attention back to Mozzie and Neal. "So, are you going to let me take a look at them or not?" This wasn't the plan. This hadn't been the plan at all. He was supposed to go in, sit down, and wait for the auction to start. But as soon as he'd come up to the doors, they'd asked for his name. Peter had, of course, given them his alias, but it hadn't worked. There was a list, and he, of course, wasn't on that list. He'd even tried going through the back way, but it had been guarded, too. And, as he was unable to carry a weapon due to the circumstances, there was little to nothing he could do. Especially considering he didn't exactly have the FBI's blessing for this particular mission. He'd tried, he'd *tried to get Reese to give him the go-ahead; after he'd done as much research as he had, he couldn't allow himself to pretend this wasn't happening right under his nose. He was a white collar agent, though, Hughes had reminded him. This wasn't the sort of thing he needed to be involved in.

"Come on, hop out of there." Master Kramer coaxed them; the gentlest Neal had ever heard him speak. He must be putting on a show for the other man, Peter.

Neal complied; he didn't want another whipping like the one he'd just had a few hours before. He crawled forward, carefully climbing out of the back of the car. When Mozzie didn't do the same, however, Master started to loose his cool. "I said get out here. Now."

Mozzie only backed himself further into the corner, clutching his arm to his chest. Neal couldn't exactly blame him; after falling on his arm from being pushed earlier and what had happened to Neal, of course he wouldn't want to be anywhere near Master Kramer.

Neal turned his head quickly when he felt a hand on his arm, his eyes meeting Peter's for a split second before he looked away. He did his best to be still, not to shy away and not to tremble noticeably.

"Let me see this one." Peter was talking to Master. "Take this shirt off him, I want a better look."

Neal shuddered, his heart rate picking up. Now the kind man would see. He'd see all the marks and he'd know, he'd _know_ what a bad, terrible boy Neal was. Then he'd never take them away from Master.

As soon as Master slipped the shirt off over his head, he couldn't help but hunch his shoulders, cowering some more. He almost jumped when he felt a gentle hand grab his arm, and then another run slowly over his back. "These marks look fresh. When did you do this to him?"

Neal looked at Master pitifully, waiting for him to answer.

"This morning. As I told you before, they were giving me some trouble. I don't see why that's any of your business."

"It's my business if I'm interested in buying." Peter snapped this time, and Neal couldn't help but shy away. He was going to be punished for how rude his Master was. When he turned his head to check on Mozzie, he noticed his friend was no longer in the car. He was near the side of it, waiting silently. He'd taken the distraction and hopped out without being forced to.

Had Peter given him that chance on purpose?

"And this one, what did you do to his arm?" Peter asked, gesturing towards Mozzie, holding his grip on Neal's arm.

"I don't know, he must've done it himself. Or he's faking; I've not done anything to merit an actual broken bone. Just a soft reminder here and there."

"Right. Well, I don't think you'll be getting much for them, like I said. They look pretty beaten up and severely underfed."

"Did you come here to buy slaves or to criticize me? I'll just as happily take them inside to be sold, or take them back home if they don't sell."

 _No, no!_ That could not happen! What if Neal sold, but Mozzie didn't? Or vice versa? Neal couldn't imagine either of them facing Master Kramer every day alone...

Only when Neal heard Peter's voice asking him what the matter was did he remember Peter's grip, and realized he'd started shaking again. He should answer, right? Master Peter is asking me a question... if he didn't answer, surely the consequences wouldn't be good! He couldn't bring himself to speak, though, and instead looked desperately to Mozzie.

"You're holding his arm too tightly." Mozzie lied for his friend, speaking for the first time since they'd gotten out of the car.

Peter immediately released his grip, causing Neal to suddenly stumble back. Surely he was in trouble, now! Master Peter seemed quieter, though. Kinder. He wanted to go home with the kinder Master.

"I'll give you ten thousand each. That's all I have to offer, and I can guarantee it's more than you're going to get for them in there." Peter said, gesturing to the building.

So he was going to take them both?

"Ten thousand?! I'll take no less than fifteen a piece. I've worked hard to train these two, and for ten thousand I could just as well give them away for free. Get down, both of you." Master Kramer ordered, and like that both Mozzie and Neal were crouched down on the ground, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

"You see? That takes time to teach. You must teach them to respect you."

"And how do you do that, exactly?" Peter reached down to put a hand in Neal's hair.

"Are you asking for a demonstration?"

Mozzie felt his heart in his throat. Please, no.

"No. I'm asking you to tell me."

"It'd be easier for me to show you." Master Kramer countered, taking a step towards Neal.

_This isn't how it's supposed to work. I haven't done anything bad!_

Neal did his best not to turn around and beg Peter not to allow it. How did he know Peter wouldn't want to do it himself?

"If you damage them further, the deal is off." Peter growled this time, stepping forward.

Mozzie couldn't help but shiver at the tone, but he forced himself to remember it wasn't towards him. It wasn't towards Neal. It was towards Master.

"I'll give you fifteen thousand each if you give them to me and we part ways now." Peter said, offering out the briefcase for Kramer. He hoped to God that it worked, because thirty thousand was all he could manage to pull together between divisions at the FBI for this mission. He just hadn't exactly _told_ anyone exactly what he was doing.

Neal waited quietly, breathing as softly as he could. He didn't want any more noise than there needed to be. _please, please..._

"I don't want to ever see these two again." Master Kramer grabbed the briefcase, turning back towards his car.

Peter knelt down, taking Neal by the arm and softly pulling him up before doing the same to Mozzie, careful not to touch the arm he clutched to his chest. "Come on, we gotta get you two out of here."

Neal obediently stood, following Peter. _They were going to a better home!... right?_

**Author's Note:**

> So, I’ve noticed many white collar fanfictions are set in an AU where slavery is legal, this isn’t one of those stories. No offense to those writers, of course! Peter and possibly El will be in the next chapter xx
> 
> Please do review and give me feedback, say if you’d like to continue reading!


End file.
